


mosquito season

by TrashcanWithSprinkles



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Banter, Boys Kissing, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Sharing a Bed, literally just fluff, no beta we die like men, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25730428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashcanWithSprinkles/pseuds/TrashcanWithSprinkles
Summary: In which George travels to Florida in the worst possible season, and maybe it isn't so bad.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 43
Kudos: 671





	mosquito season

**Author's Note:**

> hi i'm the same author who wrote local brewery so you can imagine how this oneshot is going to go lol
> 
> anyway as always respect the boys or so help me your spines will be in danger. this is just fiction, these are their personas, don't harass them with this. if they are uncomfy with anything like this then this is going poof so enjoy it while it's here!

When George flew over to Florida to meet Dream, he did it in the worst possible season:

Mosquito season.

Aside from the oppressive heat and the packed, dense,  _ thick _ air that took  _ ages _ to get into his lungs, the only other problem to deal with were the stupid bugs. Dream's flat was several stories up, so there was clearly not much though put into whether bugs would be able to get in or not through the open windows, hence the lack of screens.

Sure, a couple of mosquitoes did get in, but swatting them away or catching one in sudden claps like Dream did, somehow, was usually enough to not make them a nuisance throughout the day.

Dream told him as much when he arrived, and George nodded in simple understanding.

There was an exception to this, however.

"You're  _ just _ in time for the bugs, it's like you're calling them over," Dream chuckled as he helped him carry his bags to his room.

"No I'm not, shut up," George laughed after him.

They sat the luggage against the wall and George chanced a glance at the bed. Dream had warned him they'd have to share it, and while George didn't know why he couldn't just take the couch or the floor, he was far too gone into his hopeless feelings to pass up the innocuous opportunity and excuse to sleep right next to his crush.

"But for real, though, this is why we're going to have to share my bed," Dream continued, moving to the wardrobe to shift through the bottom drawer. George snapped to attention, not having expected to hear the sleeping arrangements discussed so early into the day. "Trust me."

"On what?"

"You're  _ not _ going to catch a second of sleep if there's so much as a single mosquito in the room," Dream warned, serious, shooting him a look from where he searched thought spare bedsheets. "Those bastards will not give up until they have a million bites at you."

George furrowed his brow, confused. "I know  _ that _ , Dream, I've gone camping before. I don't know why that means we have to share your bed, though – I can take the couch."

Dream hummed as he pulled something from the drawer, a... bedsheet? "No, the problem here is I only have one of these."

George caught the supposed bedsheet Dream tossed him out of pure reflexes, and looked down at the fabric in his hands to discover it wasn't actually a bedsheet: it was tulle.

He pulled around it, trying to gather as much of the cloth in his hands and pick it off the floor, catching glimpses of folds and corners here and there. 

Then he understood what that was: a 'screen' for the bed to keep the mosquitoes out.

"Help me hang this up then we can eat something," Dream announced, closing the drawer and standing up with the other part of the tulle in hand.

You'd think it'd be easy, hanging a tulle sheet shaped like a rectangular camping tent over a bed. There were even little hooks nailed into the ceiling to hang each of the corners, meaning this was just commonplace, at least for Dream.

As it turned out, it wasn't so easy when you're tipsy with jet lag and lacking in several hours of sleep.

"George! Get the h----" the rest of the sentence died to a near inaudible wheeze. Dream gasped for air to try and get the rest out. "Get the other corner up, come on!"

"I'm trying!" George hoped he hadn't yelled as loud as he heard himself. Even if he did, Dream was probably deafened by his own laughter. "This just won't-! Dream!!! Stop laughing!!" Dream laughed even louder, doubled over on the floor. George huffed in indignation and thrashed about with the tulle, caught like a crab in a fishing net. "Maybe if you actually helped instead of laughing your ass off we would've finished by now!"

"You look- You look like a h-----hA! Hahahahhhh-------!!"

"DREAM!"

"You need to get o u t--- You need to get out of t h e r e!" Dream continued to laugh, trying to calm down. George couldn't even comprehend half of what he was breathing out at the moment. "You're gonna tear it in half!!"

"I'm gonna tear  _ you _ in half if you don't help me out of here!"

After many attempts to breathe again, Dream went about to freeing George from his tulle prison. George tried not to pay attention to the hearty and bubbly chuckles that would still escape his friend every so often, and kept his eyes away from his warm smile as he helped untangle him.

They managed to get the tulle up and ready over the bed, turning it into something oddly similar to a Princess's bed from some fairly take, except half as fancy and twice as useful.

The rest of the day went by much mellower. They ate and lunged about in Dream's flat because George was terribly jetlagged and it started to rain sometime around four in the afternoon anyways.

The rain had miraculously receded by nighttime, and they were sleeping early to have time to either sleep more the next day or do more things in the morning, probably the former.

George had seated himself on the bed, scrolling through Twitter, while Dream finished brushing his teeth in the bathroom. He had to admit, sitting inside the tulle was kind of cool in a sleepover kinda way.

His feet were dangling back and forth off the side of the bed when Dream re-entered the room and made a beeline for the bed.

George heard him stop in front of him and looked up from his phone just in time for Dream to grab part of the tulle and plaster it against his face, pulling to each side with a snicker.

George felt his nose squeeze slightly under the pressure. He tried not to smile with fondness as he leaned back to escape the fabric. "Stop it," he couldn't help but giggle regardless, the dumb smile breaking free as he used his free hand to push back one of Dream's. He could feel the warmth on his fingertips through the thin see-through fabric, and fought back the feeling of wishing the tulle wasn't there.

Dream just chuckled at that, easy and relaxed. George returned his attention to the phone as the fabric fell back in place in front of him. 

Dream turned the lights off, the room now only illuminated by the small lamp on the nightstand, and tossed the tulle over his head as he clambered up into the bed to take the side next to the wall.

They sat in silence for a moment there, both scrolling through their feeds before officially calling it a day for good.

George sat his phone on the nightstand and looked around at the shapes and shadows created on the walls by the tulle, sitting criss-cross. The way light from the low angle of the lamp caught in the folds and wrinkles of the fabric, giving him the distinct feeling of being inside a tent. Or a pillow fort. Or an odd combination of both.

Dream at his side locked the screen of his phone and turned to him, just watching him observe the room.

George let the silence rest before feeling as though he should comment on it. "It feels like we're inside a tent," was what he managed out, amused, eyes still on the partially dark room.

"What, like camping?" came Dream's idle question, his voice soft and quiet.

"Yeah," George nodded, turning to look at him.

He caught Dream's bright eyes in the scarce light of the room, looking straight back at him. Not for the first time that day, he found himself lost in them, wondering what shade of green they were. Were they the same as his Minecraft skin? It didn't seem likely, he'd heard people call it 'obnoxious green', and Dream's eyes were by no means that. Were they the same color of the grass, then? The leaves of the trees?

Looking at them right now, though, George felt as though it didn't really matter. They were Dream's eyes. They were bright, they shone when he smiled, and they became warmer when he was happy.

And they were looking at something behind him.

The breaking of the long-standing silent eye-contact made George blink out of his thoughts in time to watch Dream lean forward.

He managed to lean the slightest bit back when the other simply continued, practically leaning over him as one hand tossed the tulle over both their heads and the other reached for--

...the lamp. To turn it off. Of course.

George almost relaxed from the impression as Dream leaned back to his previous spot, the tulle following him and ending up between them.

Except it took him twice as long, and he didn't fully move away. George watched in frozen silence (weird choise of words, considering he could  _ feel _ the warmth radiating off him), breath caught in his throat, as his friend leaned back just enough to look at him again while the fabric slid down his face to separate them.

George felt as though he should move. Leave. As if, even though it was Dream the one who had invaded his personal space, it was in George's expected reaction as his friend to  _ not _ stay still with his nose nearly brushing his'.

He tried to argue with himself, with the fact that the tulle had been pulled back with him and now George was awkwardly out of the tent even though he was still on top of the bed. And the fact the tulle was between them.

The thought of moving as an excuse to fix the tent came up in his mind, but that would require backing away from Dream.

Which he should.

As should the other.

But why wasn't he?

He watched with bated breath as Dream's hands reached for the tulle. Slowly, gently, the see-through curtain was lifted from in front of him. Delicately, past his face. Over his head, like a bride's veil in a wedding, letting it fall behind his back as Dream's hands remained near his ears. Reverent.

George felt exposed, an inch from his friend, no screens between them.

Dream's hands traced his jaw with a ghostly touch, making George's hold on the sheets at his sides anything but.

"Dream-" he breathed out, too scared to say anything else any louder lest he shatter the moment. The hands came to cup his face, and they felt cool against his overly warm skin.

"Clay," Dream corrected, soft, looking nervously into his eyes. "Please."

George held tighter to the sheets. "Clay…" he managed out, small.

There was a smile on those bright eyes that George wished he could treasure forever. Happy, as they should be. Happy, as happy as George could make them. Both names were the same to him, both the same friend in front of him that he'd search the rainbow for.

But if Dream was to be the lunatic he wished he didn't love as much whom he recorded videos with; and Clay the man holding his face like so---

Then George would be happy, too.

The smile faded from the bright eyes as they left his' to land on his lips.

George felt bound to his spot, unable to move, as Clay's eyes glanced back up at him. 

A question. The doubts.

George didn't trust himself with anything right now. He didn't trust himself to move, he didn't trust himself to speak.

So he let his eyes drift closed, and Clay delivered.

George had, despite his best efforts, imagined what this moment would be like. He'd gone through more scenarios than he'd care to admit, from the gentlest to the feistiest.

And yet…

He had never thought of one so soft.

George fell in love all over again when they pulled back and all Clay seemed capable of doing was smiling at him. It was a dumb little smile, precious, giddy, like a high schooler holding hands with their crush for the first time.

Not that he himself was faring any better, he doubted the feverish heat of his cheeks was invisible.

The tulle was arranged back into place and they laid down, George somehow managing to pull the covers over both of them while Clay couldn't stop stealing kisses like a literal child.

If you were to ask George if the tulle tent was a good countermeasure for mosquitoes, he wouldn't know what to tell you. He wasn't sure it was the mosquitoes' bites what prevented one from sleeping moreso than the stupid noise they made by flying. And if there was a mosquito flying the perimeter of the tent, then one stood to reason you'd still be able to hear them loud and clear.

Although by then it would be a matter of the safety of mind of knowing, despite it being there, it couldn't bite you.

Regardless, George had no idea.

Did he sleep in that tulle tent for the entirety of his stay in Florida? Yes.

Did the mosquitoes wake him up at night? No. 

Did he wake up covered in itchy mosquito bites? Also no, the tulle was there for a reason.

But was it the tulle what helped him sleep  _ despite _ there being bugs around, or was it Clay's heartbeat on his ears lulling him to sleep every night after a dozen stolen kisses?

George had no idea.

All he knew was,

Mosquito season wasn't so terrible a season if you had a good countermeasure for it, and George found himself the best one upon arrival.

Here's to hoping he could take it back to England.

**Author's Note:**

> hope that was nice! i remembered this friend who had a tulle tent on their bed during summer bc they live in the countryside and mosquitoes are a pain in the ass and inspiraition struck like lightning lol  
> so have this fluff and softness i worte at like two am in a delirious rush idk it be like that sometimes
> 
> have a nice week!


End file.
